


I Want Him Back

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [85]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade is Our Division Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: It's Lestrade who makes the identification when Sherlock is only given a photo of a tattooed forearm as proof of a kidnapping.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [85]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1090899
Comments: 13
Kudos: 151





	I Want Him Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsLadySmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLadySmith/gifts).



> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts: Ink

“Not NOW, Lestrade! I’m BUSY! Dinner is cancelled!” Sherlock yelled from inside the flat before he had reached the landing.

It was one of the rare times the doors to 221b were fully closed.

Normally, Greg would have made more of an effort to hide his footfalls as he climbed the steps. It was a game, how far he could get before Sherlock noticed him. It was a testament to the consulting detective’s business that he had reached the landing before being called out, but there was no time, and frankly no point to subterfuge now.

Greg knew Sherlock was on an important case, a very important one. It did not matter.

Greg knew why he was there. He knew it was more important than anything, and Sherlock would soon learn why.

Greg put his hand on the knob, quickly opened the door, and stepped in... 

There was a beehive of activity in the living room of 221b. There were people in suits pouring over information from laptops on nearly every available surface. Mobiles rang, people spoke. John was pulling printouts as they emerged.

“It’s new, no more than a few days, a week at best… Why did they do this? It makes no sense!”

The living room wall was already so littered with string and papers that even the smiley face was not seen.

“What’s going on?” Greg asked carefully.

“Kidnapping. High powered. Can’t go through normal channels. Nothing personal against the Met.” John handed more printouts to Sherlock who stood on the sofa and pinned and them to the living room wall.

Greg froze….

Sherlock arranged several photos of the inside of a man’s forearm. The combined photos focused on the design on the arm and enlarged the image.

The forearm had words tattooed just below the crook of the left arm. The words were in white ink barely discernable from the pale complexion tattooed on, which was the intent.

It was the location and the words themselves that had given him pause.

Greg does not know what sound he made, but he knows some sort of noise was heard.

Sherlock stopped in the middle of his rapid fire words to John and whipped his head in Greg’s direction at the door. His face a sneer of rage about to tear into him when he stopped.

John turned at Sherlock’s sudden silence and saw Greg still frozen at the door

Mute with shock as he stared at the photo collage, Greg’s arm seemed to lift of its own accord as he presented the envelope he held.

“You okay?” John walked over and took the envelope from him. “Greg?”

Hearing his name snapped him out of the momentary stupor.

“It is personal. Open the envelope, John.” Greg found his voice at last. “Please.”

John opened it and revealed the photo, the same photo that was on the wall, but with a caption in block letters: _We have something that belongs to you._

“Why would they…? Oh fuck!” John looked from Greg to the wall to the photo he held, to the consulting detective, “Sherlock!”

Sherlock gasped as he suddenly had answers to the questions asked. He almost fell from the sofa in the shock of it as he stepped down. “Show me!”

Greg took off his sport jacket and started to roll up his sleeve, his left shirt sleeve.

“We got them five days ago when you were still on a case in the States. You came home yesterday. We were going to tell you at dinner tonight. We got this because we didn’t want wedding rings, but someone knows.”

John and Sherlock examined the calligraphy written in Latin on his arm with white ink, a twin to the tattoo in the photos on the wall and the one in John’s hand.

 _Semper te amabo /_ I will always love you

Greg ran his fingers over the tattoo.

“Someone kidnapped my husband, Sherlock. I want him back!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have gifted this fic to MsLadySmith who has graciously volunteered to take over and create a full story out of this. You can read her continuation here: [ _**Semper te amabo**_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27860542/chapters/68212982)


End file.
